


tired

by toefarm



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Gen, Pain, Self-Harm, most of the characters are background characters, most of the characters are only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-30 20:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toefarm/pseuds/toefarm
Summary: kokichi ouma is on the verge, and he's almost pushed over the edge.





	1. pain

**Author's Note:**

> lmao dis is kinda a vent piece 4 me so dont b angry dat its kinda ooc  
-  
warnings 4: self harm, thoughts of suicide

pain. 

that's all that oma felt when saihara said those words. 

"get out. all you do is hurt everyone, you're going to die alone, ouma." 

he put on a smile as he gripped his arm, and said bye. 

thoughts were racing through his mind as he walked back to his dorm. 

'no one cares.' 'you can't do anything right.' 'you wouldn't be missed.' 'do it.'

tears were threatening to fall once he reached his room. he quickly made it inside and took off his shirt, looking at the scars that littered his upper body. scars that were self inflicted. he deserved them all, each and every one of them, no matter how deep. oma took a deep breath and asked himself if he really wanted to do this.

of course he did. why wouldn't he?

he grabbed what he usually used, a pencil sharpener blade, and inhaled. he sliced the top of his forearm slowly, drinking up all the relief he felt from this. he stopped with that cut, and went on to another part of his body: his stomach. he pressed into his side with the blade, dragging it to his belly button. there was blood slowly running down his body, he didn't care if it ruined his pants. tojo wouldn't ask questions as she did laundry. would she be concerned? yes, but it's not like it mattered.

he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, and started to write.

"haha! you guys found this, and it means i was successful in one thing: offing myself! what a wonderful way to continue this killing game, is it not? i hope you guys aren't too mad at me and what i did. i just felt like it was beneficial to everyone here." 

he paused while writing, thinking back to amami's death. how the pink blood seeped from his head and onto the ground. how he was lifeless. how he was gone. oma then thought to akamatsu's execution. how it hurt him deep inside. the only person that attempted to break down his walls was gone, taken away from him too early. she could be considered a friend to him. he'd been clean for a year or two at before that day, but he started again. it's gotten progressively worse since then. 

oma shook his head, trying to shake off the thoughts of his late friend. tears hit the paper he was writing on. he threw his pencil at the whiteboard in his room and crumpled up the note. it wasn't time yet. 

he picked up the blade again and cut a little 'k' into his upper arm. 

feeling calmer, he hid the blade and walked into his attached bathroom. he cleaned and wrapped the wounds, then put his shirt back on. he splashed cold water on his face to calm himself down. looking in the mirror, he stared at himself.

extremely pale skin. minor acne. dark hair, an unnatural color. same goes for his large, light colored doe eyes. thin-ish lips but straight teeth. slim nose. small scars on his cheeks and forehead. thin eyebrows. pointy chin. slight eye bags.

he felt that none of it went together, placed without care. he was unattractive to himself. he looked too boy like, too much like a little kid.

he pushed himself away from the sink and went out of his room. the day was nice, so why not enjoy it? slightly cloudy with a minimal breeze, the sun still shining through and warming him. glad he's here to enjoy this, he sat on the grass, hands picking at the blades of grass and dirt. he felt happier than earlier, trying not to think about what saihara said. oma truly did try to help and be honest the whole time. making friends was difficult, but to be told that he was going to die alone? who says things like that to a classmate? he laid in the grass, hands under his head.

he was glad for once in his life, content even. his lying did get him into trouble often, but it’s alright. his body hurt, but it’s alright. the pain was dulling every few minutes. 

he looked at the spot that was previously empty, now filled with a robotic body. oma was surprised that he wasn’t ranted at for laying on the grass in white clothes.

“keeboy?”


	2. relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> realization.
> 
> it’s okay to not be okay. it’s okay to get close to someone again without them leaving. oma has a little faith in himself for that to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: self harm  
-  
characters r ooc again

hatred. fear.

oma was in his room, leaning over his sink. 

he wanted to tear himself to pieces. 

stupid, stupid, stupid him.

he hit his hand against his head, his arms, his legs. anywhere where there was skin, he punched. he wanted to bruise, he wanted to cut. he wanted to harm.

tears fell from his eyes. he didn’t want to be in this body anymore. he didn’t want to exist. but still, he pushed on.

for keebo.

his only friend.

he shook his head and looked at himself.

too skinny. too boy like. too… him. it was repulsive, really. the eye bags that hung from his somehow still lively eyes, his sickly pale skin. his deep purple hair was matted, he didn’t care to brush it. acne growing worse from not showering often and from too much sugary and greasy food. it made him look disgusting. he hated it.

but that was him.

that was oma.

he looked down at his scarred body, seeing how the newer cuts healed. perfectly fine. he wanted more. he deserved them. 

he grabbed a double-sided razor, a brand new one too. inhale. exhale. in and out. up and out, down and in. his chest wasn’t scarred at all. the one piece of himself that he actually enjoyed, for some reason.

he ran his finger against the blade. it was sharp. he smiled slightly at the mirror. where? 

where, where, where were the next cuts going to be?

settling on his lower legs, he got to work. one, two, three, four… eventually losing count on both legs. blood was dripping from them and onto the tiling, but he didn’t care. he wanted relief, and boy, was he drowning in it. 

once he felt that there was enough, which there never was, he hid the razor and stood up, gripping the counter to aid him. he grabbed a washcloth and started to clean them, putting bandaids on them if they were small enough. 

he put lounge pants on and a long-sleeved shirt, and headed on out to the grass. where he laid with his head resting in his hands. where he and keebo had long conversations until the nighttime announcement rang out.

the robot was laying in the area where oma was, a few days ago or so. 

“ah! hello oma!” keebo was surprised as oma’s sudden appearance. sitting down, he realized the grass was slightly damp. 

“hi keeboy.” oma’s voice lacked his usual charm and cheerfulness.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing.” 

it was a lie.

“oma…” somehow, keeboy knew. “i know you’re lying.”

silence.

it droned on and on.

a sigh.

“look: i care. you can tell me anything.”

a sad smile.

a forced laugh.

“what? you think i’m going to tell some stupid robot who can’t understand human emotions how i’m feeling?” oma was putting his defenses up, insulting to protect himself from potentially getting hurt again.

a pained look.

“y..yeah.” the robot looked away, then back again.

“you’re wrong.” there was an emphasis on wrong.

keebo stood up. he was playing with his hands nervously. 

“i want to be your friend, oma. i’m willing to tolerate your robophobia, your pranks, your constant lying even! you…”

he looked away.

“you need to drop down your walls if this is going to work,”

a nervous laugh escaped from his lips.

“you need to trust me. you can decline and i’ll understand, you can accept and i’ll be happy.”

oma was stunned. this would be his first friend since akamatsu. he’s not sure if he could accept, the fear of being left again is extremely powerful.

he stood up and stared into keebo’s eyes. he rolled his sleeves up, not caring because his arms were wrapped.

“what… happened?”

“you’re such a clueless, dumb robot. let’s have a race to the game room.” finally, there was oma’s smile. genuine? the robot wasn’t able to tell.

“okay. three, two…”

and the purple haired boy was off.

this was going to be a fun friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow another chaptwr that i wrote at 12-1, who’s surprised? not i. also wasn’t planning this to b a second chapter but it kinda fit so wig

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if dis was bad , i wrote it at 1 am n i’m not the best at writing 😳 also dis fic is uhhhh how i feel sumtimes. i also realize dis could’ve been written better but it’s w/e lol


End file.
